


Going for a sweet, sweet end

by moonlite



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, I made it for my self but feel free to read, M/M, Self-Indulgent, fanfic of a fanfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:55:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22470634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlite/pseuds/moonlite
Summary: A few years have passed since one Anthony Crowley and one Aziraphale Eastgate opened their small shop called “Above and Below”. Many things have passed and people who came in through the door.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Beelzebub/Gabriel (Good Omens), Harriet Dowling/Thaddeus J. Dowling, Hastur/Ligur (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 42





	Going for a sweet, sweet end

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hazelandglasz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazelandglasz/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Sweet, Sweet Temptation](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22435024) by [hazelandglasz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazelandglasz/pseuds/hazelandglasz). 



> This is basically a fanfic for hazelandglasz's Sweet, Sweet Temptation, set years after the fic because I couldn't help myself but imagine how things might turn out in a different world. So, please do try to read their work before reading this one as this one might not make sense without their story.

A few years have passed since one Anthony Crowley and one Aziraphale Eastgate opened their small shop called “Above and Below”. Many things have passed and people who came in through the door. 

Beelzy occasionally drops by to see what they have done to the shop and even the most indifferent person was impressed at how the two managed the shop, combining their interests and making it work. When they opened the shop, it was out of love for eating. Beelzy loved pastries and they loved cooking so they studied how to bake. When they can manage their own recipes, the shop was then planned. 

That is how they met their booty call: Gabriel. 

Gabriel was their financial adviser then and Beelzy would rather forget how they managed to fall into bed - and if we’re being honest, they keep doing it - together. All of a sudden, they have an arrangement of convenience and they meet in the oddest of places. One time, they had dinner in this fancy restaurant. Weird.

Hastur also drops by but to annoy Crowley. Hastur was employed - well, he sought employment but he thinks himself way too special to be seeking a job so ‘employed’ it is - when Beelzy needed an assistant baker in the shop. Hastur knew how to bake, alright, but never had the imagination for it. He always stuck to his cookbooks so he remained a kitchen help his entire time in the place. 

When he drops by the shop, he makes sure to drop a snarky comment to one of the owners but never to the other. If Crowley’s being honest, Hastur’s niceness with Aziraphale is making him jealous. Well, he is jealous. 

“Oi, Hastur, can I talk to you a minute?”

“What do you want?” Hastur answered but going to Crowley nonetheless to have their conversation privately.

“Aziraphale is my boyfriend,”

“Yeah, so?”

“Stop flirting with him.” Crowley stared at him levelly, face devoid of anything except amusement when Hastur laughed.

“I am happily married, Crowley. And no offense - he’s not my type,” Hastur laughed and the next time he dropped by, his husband is with him and is glaring at Crowley.

“75005,” Crowley spoke so weakly that no one but the person themself recognized the numbers out his lips. 

“Hello,” Aziraphale came into view, greeting their guests. Hastur smiled at him and Ligur, well, Ligur is undecided. He, after all, lost Oliver Twist to this man.

“I mentioned last time I was going to bring my husband to meet you. Well, here he is,” Ligur decidedly smiled. They’re just books. And if his husband has said nothing but nice things about the man, then there is more to the man than that meeting in the auction.

Aziraphale turned out to be quite a passionate man, Ligur decided. And any lingering remorse about the lost books vanished at he got to know the blond man. Aziraphale even managed to recall him and apologize profusely - Ligur mentioned what Crowley did. They both agreed that the book is better off being enjoyed under supervision and so far, Ligur can see how Aziraphale loves his books dearly. 

“Your husband is… He’s quite Aziraphale’s opposite, isn’t he?” Crowley remarked while he talked with Hastur about the man’s new job. He decided to apply as a baker in a hotel and since they follow strict rules with their pastries, it works for Hastur.

“What do you mean?” Hastur frowned. Crowley motioned towards the two talking near the books and their difference is so striking; day and night. Where Aziraphale seems to be radiating with all that sun reflecting on him, Ligur seemed to have taken a slice of night and wrapped himself with it. Hastur smiled fondly at his husband when he glanced at them. “Well, now you know my type.”

Above and Below became a hit - mostly because the pastries were changing and you have to catch the newest one the owner would come up with; which is a novelty on its own, and the place slowly became what youngsters call ‘Instagrammable’. Well, Aziraphale would admit the place would not be as picturesque as it is if not for one young Warlock who decided to stay during the majority of his time in the shop, reading Aziraphale’s books and chatting up with Crowley about flavors he thinks Crowley would approve of when he’s not in school - yes it includes something spicy. 

Warlock is the son of a foreign ambassador. They will be staying here for some time so Warlock is set up to attend in the nearby school and perhaps even attend college in the country. He doesn’t know. But he enjoys his time now. Since his parents are often away for work or in some gathering with other officials, he’s usually left alone at home with the guards who don’t exactly talk to him so imagine his boredom.

When Warlock first came into the shop, it was just to buy a drink, then he’ll be on his merry way to the stationery store but then the blonde man, whom he would later call ‘Pops’, started to chatter about his books to one of the customers and he felt obliged to listen. It wasn’t every day that a person talks so passionately about something they like without being a politician. Well, in Warlock’s world anyway.

Then, after discovering the pastries don’t follow a pattern but the owner’s mood, he began to make suggestions to said owner. The very next day, he saw a treat on the window, named after him.

“You actually considered it,” he told the man with red hair, whom he would later call ‘Nan’ not really knowing the implication of the word to the English men, beaming at him like that was the most amazing thing to have happened in this life.

“‘Course I did. It was a good idea,” Crowley frowned but the child was busy beaming, staring at the treat he later got to taste with the hot chocolate Aziraphale always makes for himself.

Warlock became a permanent fixture in the shop, acquainting himself with the regulars and his guards, two of them, apparently, started to dress casually to lend in the crowd that goes to the shop. One time, the ambassador himself dropped by the place to check up on his son’s whereabouts and panicked when he didn’t see the uniformed guards.

“Chill, dad. They’re here. Just not in uniform. People get nervous when they see them all suited up,” Warlock rolled his eyes and slumped himself down the new sofa the owners acquired for, mainly Aziraphale but also, the customers.

“Well, I don’t see any reason why you should be down here in the first place,”

“I study here after school,”

“We have a perfectly functioning library at home. We can get all the books you need and even a tutor. We can have the food delivered to you. I don’t understand you, Warlock,” The ambassador spoke, his voice quite booming. “Sometimes I don’t think you’re still my son.”

“You lost your son the moment he realized his mom is just your trophy wife, dad,” Warlock answered, the last word spat out with such venom that even the guard closest to them, the one who’s always with Warlock, flinched. The ambassador only stared at his son, nodded and stood up, fixing his clothes as if he just had an appointment before walking away. The uniformed guards also disappeared. After a minute, Warlock ran to Crowley and the man caught him in his arms, tucking his head under his chin, making shushing sounds and leading him to the back of the shop. Aziraphale manned the counter for a while.

The ambassador never went down the shop again and Warlock’s guards started helping with the shop when it’s packed with people. 

The ‘Them’, or as they call themselves, were not per se a regular fixture in the shop but when they want to hang out with Warlock, they just come in and bring all sorts of stories with them. Sometimes, they would all be quiet, studying for a test - these are the times when Aziraphale tries to help them review especially Wensleydale who gets nervous around numbers no matter how good he is at them. Crowley prepares a special treat for them that they can only get if they answer a particularly hard question Aziraphale thinks they are struggling with. It’s nice, having the children around. They aren’t too loud that they disturb the customers but eager enough that they liven up the place a bit too. 

The place next to the shop decided to close 6 years after Above and Below opened. It wasn’t exactly ideal but Crowley decided to buy the place and expand the shop. It’s getting harder and harder to accommodate the children and the customers and quite frankly, neither Crowley nor Azirapahle is willing to ask the children to go. So, an expansion it is.

One of the reasons why the children stay with them is because they weren’t treated as ‘children’ by the owners but as ‘people’ and as adults who can completely decide on their own. When the owners decided to extend the shop, they told them the plan and even asked for suggestions.

“Aziraphale can add to his library,” was the first thing Pepper said, eyes gleaming at the prospect of more books. I forgot to mention that the children started loving reading because they always see Aziraphale reading and he is a really good storyteller.

“You can have a bigger kitchen, pops!” Brian, who took to calling both owners ‘pops’, cheered.

“I have been to the shop next door before. You’ll have to do a lot of fixing and upping,” Wensleydale frowned.

“You can make up for the renovations costs with the revenue. If the shop maintains its sales for the next, say, at least five years, then getting loan won’t be a problem,” Warlock spoke, glancing at Adam who was staring at him, trying to digest his words. Being a part of Warlock’s family, well, it’s not very healthy for a 12-year-old. It forces you to grow up and deal with matters you aren’t ready for. Like Warlock’s mom suddenly being versed with law and Warlock familiarizing himself with business and political terms.

“You mean they will borrow money from the bank?” Adam summarized, Warlock, nodded.

“Aziraphale?” Crowley turned to his boyfriend - yes he’s going to ask him to marry soon and move in with him and really Crowley got this. He got this. No pressure.

“The shop only earns enough for its upkeep, darling boy. We can buy the place for the price the previous owner is asking for it but we won’t be able to do renovations if we want to give the place a new look,” Aziraphale turned to Warlock who nodded understandingly before turning to Crowley. Yes, Aziraphale wants to ask him to marry but with problems like this, he really can’t, can he now?

“Why don’t we just use what we can? My dad always say to make use of what you have,” Adam shrugged and Crowley raised his brows.

“That might actually work. If we only make the necessary renovations - like with leaky pipes and all - we might just make it,” he answered, already considering what concerns he had before with the place next door. It wasn’t really a new place and it has some problems with the wiring but it’s bigger than their shop now and Crowley is eyeing the second floor as a new flat for him and Aziraphale. If Aziraphale would take him, of course.

The previous owner of the shop next door shook the hand of a suited man who thanked him quietly. He never really thought someone else would be interested in the place aside from the red-headed man next door. She knew that they are looking to expand their shop since not only have they started keeping the trouble-making children, their shop is also quite famous to different markets. Their baker makes pastries that somehow are edible - they are delicious but they don’t need the ego boost - and the fact that each delight never stays on display for more than a week adds to it. She never really liked pastries but she drops by every once in a while to buy anything that catches her eye or just to talk to the blonde owner.

She learned a few years back that the shop, which was originally owned by Beelzy was suddenly passed down to the red-headed man and the blonde man was just his business partner. She knew Beelzy was losing their interest in the shop but she was surprised to learn that they would just hand the shop down like that. Not that she’s complaining but it was indeed a surprise. 

When she first met Aziraphale, she was charmed beyond belief. The man is kind and has an air of warmth around him that makes it very easy to relax. He’s all smiles too so when she decided to sell her place to move somewhere else - yes she’s moving to the countryside to pursue a simpler life because London is too noisy for her - she was determined to sell to the two. But of course, she’s a businesswoman first and foremost and when the suited man asked to buy the place for double the price, she sold it to him immediately. Hence, the handshaking.

“It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, madam,” The man spoke softly before making for the door, on his way out, bumping into Crowley who looked quite betrayed.

“I - uhm, well, I suppose the place is already sold, huh?” he stammered, face falling ever so quickly.

“I was going to sell it to you and your business partner but the man offered me twice the price. You know how business goes, right?” She tried to explain. Crowley nodded and quietly thanked her - she’s not sure what for - before he left to go back to his shop.

A suited man came into the shop looking to speak with the owner.

“I am one of the owners. How may I help you?” he smiled, trying to will Crowley to come back. But alas he can’t make that miracle happen.

“I was informed that the place has two owners. Is the other owner around?”

“He had other matters to attend to. If it’s something that can’t wait for his return, I suggest we set an appointment,”

“This is an urgent matter. I can wait here until the other owner returns,” he nodded, seeming to approve of the situation before finding a place to sit, his briefcase on the table, his presence looming darkly in the corner he occupied.

Crowley stepped out and took a deep breath. Aziraphale would be disappointed. He won’t be able to get the flat above it. The children will have to lessen their ‘meetings’ in the shop. He sighed again and made his way to the park. There is no use in prolonging the inevitably disappointing news but there’s no rush either. 

It was useless trying to reach Crowley’s phone because he left it in Aziraphale’s pocket. How it got there, he doesn’t know. But right now, Aziraphale is very nervous and not being able to contact Crowley is making his more fidgety.

The red-headed man sat down the park bench. He was going to get that place and he was going to propose to Aziraphale once they open the extension of the shop. Then, he will ask Azirpahale to move in with him and they would take the space upstairs as their flat and it was all going to be happy but - Crowley sighed for the hundredth time. He has money but he’s not that rich. He can’t pay double for the place - hell that place wasn’t even worth that price but someone was determined enough to get it. Probably a big company looking to make a smaller business to test the market. Or maybe someone rich. Crowley’s pretty sure it’s someone rich.

Crowley decided to go back to the shop but not without a few things he’s sure Aziraphale would enjoy.

When Crowley stepped through the door, Aziraphale was on him and pulling him to the kitchen.

“Someone has been waiting for you because he wants to talk to us. Do you know why?” the blond man asked, concerned painted all over his blue eyes Crowley frowned and tried to think of anything he’s done in the past out to get him but came up with nothing. “Well then, we better talk to him. He’s been waiting for you since you went out earlier.”

“I assume you’re Mr. Anthony Crowley?” The man turned to Aziraphale, holding out his hand. Aziraphale shook the hand but shook his head no.

“I am Aziraphale Eastgate. He is Anthony Crowley,” he smiled, motioning towards Crowley who was frowning towards the man who just shook his hand. “May we know why you were insistent on talking to the two of us?”

“Don’t I know you from somewhere?” Crowley cut in, staring at the man in concentration. Said man only nodded while opening his briefcase.

“We bumped into each other earlier. I signed for the shop next door,” the man confirmed, realization dawned on Crowley faster. He had questions but was silenced when the man pushed a contract to them. “This is the title for the building next door. My employer bought it under the assumption that you are planning to expand your shop. Is that correct?” The man asked and they both nodded.

“Then the building is yours to do what you will with. But, under one condition: You will continue to look after young master Warlock and he is to be made partner in your business venture. Is that acceptable?”

Aziraphale frowned. Crowley recovered first. “So, you bought the building to give it to us in exchange for looking after Warlock and making him into a business partner?” he summarized, raising a brow.

“Correct,”

“Is your employer the ambassador?”

“Correct,”

“But why?” Aziraphale asked, still frowning. The suited man sighed and removed his glasses, massaging his temple.

“My employer knows he’s an absent father to his son. The only way he knows about what happens to him is through the reports the young master’s guards send at the end of every day. His guards submit nothing but praise about how you two maintain a strict routine for the young master and his acquired friends. He cares about his son and this is the closest to the best he can give without compromising his job,” the mas explained. Aziraphale thanked the heavens that the children are still in school. He’s pretty sure Warlock would say some strong words about the situation.

“If we accept your offer, we also have a condition: Once Warlock is named a business partner, his father would not have any influence over the shop or his son’s decision about the business whatsoever. Is that acceptable?” Crowley offered.

“That does not violate anything my employer wishes to happen. You will have complete control of the business unless young master Warlock decides to be a full partner by the time he is of legal age to take full control of his shares and his inheritance. If you have nothing more to ask, please do sign the contract and the title and expect the following documents in the days to come,”

Once the papers were signed, the man left and the two owners remained seated, holding each other’s hand under the table.

Warlock knows nothing about what his father did nor does he understand how Pops and Nan were able to buy the place next door with a spare for the renovations. But then those two have always been something he can’t understand so he let it be. Life continued on in the shop and everything seemed fine.

The renovations in the shop next door started immediately. There wasn’t much to fix but they were able to punch a hole through the wall to connect the two places and make seamless. Like it has always been there and just waiting to be revealed.

Crowley also got a bigger kitchen, as he was looking forward to, and now now, he can let the kids help decorate the pastries he does. Brian and Warlock are both particularly happy about this. Pepper and Adam busied themselves with the other books Aziraphale moved to the shop. The only remaining books in his flat are the ones he can’t bear parting with. The rest found a new home on the shelves, waiting for more people to enjoy them. Wensleydale, well, little man that he is, stuck next to his father to study the ledgers of the shop, the owners hiring his father to be the second accountant. It can never hurt to have two for that. Or two and a half if you count young Wensleydale in. He’s really good at numbers.

The flat above was renovated as well to fit not just two people but four or even more. After they surveyed the space, they found out that the flat above Above and Below is an extension of the flat of the building next door, making the space ‘above’ as big as the space downstairs now that they have both spaces. This made it easier to have not just one bedroom upstairs but also a few others where in the future, the Them and Warlock would be staying to study for their tests in college, and maybe, just maybe, a couple of them would settle in to take care of the original owners of the shop downstairs because they have been parents to certain kids as much as their actual parents but that’s for the future. It’s a wide world. Anything can happen. 

But for now, those empty rooms would be open for anyone who needs a place to stay in, and a safe space for anyone seeking it.

The shop did well. With the added room, more patrons remained and even business proposals were made. One they considered was a proposal from their old client Madam Tracy. She was one of those old women that Aziraphale just sort of kept in touch with even after he resigned from his work. She was a big fan of Crowley’s pastries and even tell them she tells her ‘clients’ to drop by the shop for some feel-good food.

“The young ones are very fond of coffee nowadays. Horrible things those are - but remember that young man I was telling you about? Young Pulsifer? Well, he’s been smelling like the stuff all the time,” Madam Tracy giggled, making her way out of the shop. Something about Madam Tracy just makes you consider her words seriously no matter how silly they might be sometimes. It’s as if she knows something you don’t and you just have to know what it is.

And so, a small bar was added to make way for coffee orders and ‘young Pulsifer’, who happened to have just resigned from one, say, famous coffee shop, was employed by Above and Below to make their beverages. And who knew! His name is Newton and Crowley felt like he’s talking to his pet but in a human form. Who makes coffee. And sometimes a cup of coffee with Irish cream. For his two bosses. How did Crowley get here again?

Newton proved to be a really helpful addition to the shop if not a little concerning because of his clumsiness. But one thing they learned about him: Never let him near any computers or he causes the end of the world. Or that computer. 

“Well, angel,” Crowley started one night after they have closed the shop. Newton volunteered to close up but, well, Crowley has plans and Aziraphale enjoys closing up so they sent Newton home.

“Yes?” Aziraphale looked up from the book he was just reading. He was finishing the last of the chocolate Irish cream Newton made him and was just waiting for Crowley to finish up.

“I made something and I was thinking if you want to try it first?” Crowley smiled goofily and upon seeing Aziraphale’s interest, he dashed to the kitchen and took out the  [ cake ](https://thefirstyearblog.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/Lemon-Blueberry-Angel-Food-Cake-9.jpg) he made earlier that day. Aziraphale made a delighted gasp as he took in how the flowers looked lovely on the top of the cake.

“Are you going to make this tomorrow?” he asked, watching as Crowley started cutting it to give him a slice.

“Not really. But I just wanted to try, I guess,” there was an excited glint in his eyes. He looked nervous but that’s just how Crowley is with these things he wants Aziraphale to try - always fidgety and like Aziraphale would bestow his disapproval.

The two have been enjoying their time and consuming their slices one bite at a time when a loud knock disturbed them. When Azirpahale got back from the door, it was the ambassador with his wife. Warlock was nowhere so they assume the child doesn’t know this little excursion.

“Mr. Ambassador,” Crowley acknowledged while Aziraphale took his wife’s coat and hanged it by the coat hanger. 

“Mr. Eastgate, I assume?” the man reached his hand out, a firm shake.

“Hopefully if you didn’t drop by today,” Crowley answered and if Aziraphale heard that, he ignored it in favor of asking the missus about herself.

“I’m fine. You’re Mr. Eastgate, right?”

“One and only,” Aziraphale smiled and lead her to sit down next to her husband. After everyone’s comfortably seated, Crowley started taking away the cake he made that made Aziraphale pout but instead, Crowley took out a different pastry to be enjoyed by everyone. Also, he thinks the ambassador would not appreciate it if there were any inconveniences.

“So, to what do we owe the pleasure?” Aziraphale asked, primly folding his hands on his lap.

“I think you both already know what I’m here for. That contract you signed does not have any bearings but the condition you are given,” 

“The condition that we babysit your son because you can’t be bothered to be a father to him?” Crowley asked. Aziraphale looked apologetically to the missus and there was an understanding there.

“Among other things. This is also to secure that should Warlock decide to take up business, he has sufficient experience to get him through,”

“He’s barely 18,”

“And yet he talks about nothing but this shop and wanting to have something like it in his future. Look; Warlock clearly likes the two of you even if it goes against our morals. Being an absent father, I have no say in anything at all but he’ll listen to you. So I implore you to teach him. Guide him, at least. My guards have sung your praises and I’ll be damned to turn away a chance to get good influencers for my child,” The ambassador frowned. Harriet, bless her, took the floor from her husband.

“I have tried to be there for my son, believe me, but I also have responsibilities and Warlock never got along with the babysitters we set up for him. But you two, you made him listen. You made him a responsible child - he even washes his own plates after he eats in the middle of the night,” Harriet paused, ”I would carry Warlock with me all the time if I can but I don’t want him to grow up dealing with politics the way the two of us do. I want him to live as normally as he can and the two of you are providing that for him. I hope you understand where we’re coming from as parents and as government officials.” Harriet continued. Aziraphale nodded and Crowley frowned.

“You know you’re still his parents, right? We adore your child but you’ll have to explain that to him if you don’t want your child hating you in the future. He might be a teenager but he’s not a child,” Crowley answered.

“I suppose what my partner is saying is you can count on us to do our part but you have to do yours too. He needs to know his parents are doing what they can to raise him well,” Aziraphale added. The Dowlings nodded.

Sometimes, Aziraphale thought, parents mean well but they don’t know how to express it and they need other people to help them out. 

Crowley just thinks it’s hard to be a father. 

Harriet looked delighted upon being shown what his son does in the kitchen of the shop. Crowley, being secretly nice, even allowed the missus to decorate a cookie herself and she took them home, making sure to use that as an ice breaker with Warlock.

“So, you were going to propose to your partner earlier?” Harriet suddenly asked, needle carefully held as she distributed the royal icing. Crowley decided he can let the woman make use of them instead of using the baked cookies as the crust for a mini cheesecake he’s been meaning to try.

“Wh - huh?”

“‘Hopefully if you didn’t drop by today’. Your answer when my husband asked if you’re Mr. Eastgate,” she smirked upon seeing the surprised look on Crowley’s face. Crowley, for his part, developed an immediate fondness for the quick woman. “And also I know the ring was on that cake you were eating before we got here.”

“Bh - but - whuh?” Crowley, well, he makes sounds sometimes when his mind is running too fast and his mouth can’t keep up. Like now when what he wants to say is: ‘How in the hell would you know that? I took the cake out after you arrived! What if the ring was in the wine bottle?’ but nope. None of those words came out. Harriet, for her part, only maintained an air of calm.

“You took the cake out after we got here, meaning you didn’t want us to have that cake. So, there is something in the cake. Then, considering what you told my husband, the easiest conclusion is that you were going to propose and the ring was in the cake,” Harriet smiles cheekily before brushing her hands together.

“So, you’re Mr. Eastgate,” Thaddeus spoke while he inspected the bookshelf. He’s not a big reader himself but he appreciates books for what they are. When Aziraphale showed him the books Warlock have read more than once, the man only gave an approving nod and grunt.

“Yes sir, one and only,” Aziraphale confirmed.

“And Mr. Crowley is your partner… As in life partner? Your husband?”

“I should hope so or the years we’ve been together would’ve meant nothing. But he’s not my husband, no,” Aziraphale looked down. He’s hoping to make the husband part possible soon since the shop is built up now. No more problems.

Thaddeus gave another nod and grunt and clasped his hands together. In his head, he couldn’t help but smile at the knowledge that the man he talked to earlier, Mr. Crowley, was hoping to be Mr. Eastgate tonight. He might be a politician and there might not be much love in his world but he does love his darling wife and he appreciates love when he sees it. “That’s a pity. You and Mr. Crowley has the perfect set-up to be called ‘married’,”

“The future is always uncertain, Mr. Dowling,” Aziraphale responded before Harriet appeared and showed them the cookies she decorated, gushing to her husband about how it can help a child’s focus and develop patience.

Once the Dowlings are gone, Crowley started cleaning up as well, putting the set-aside cake in a box as per Aziraphale’s request. Walking down the road, Aziraphale asked if Crowley wanted to have dinner and perhaps, a nightcap in his place.

And that is how they found themselves on Aziraphale’s couch, his legs on Crowley’s thighs, Aziraphale’s hands playing with the one Crowley put between them while the other was carding through Aziraphale’s hair.

“We never really got to finish the cake you made earlier,” Aziraphale pouted, bringing the hand he was playing with to his lips, just running his fingertips against them.

“We don’t have to, angel. It was just something I wanted to try,”

“Oh but it was such a scrumptious cake, Crowley. I don’t think I can ever be at par,” he smiled, kissing the fingertips.

“Wh - with the cake?”

“My talent for baking, dear. I did try to make something too, you know?” Aziraphale smiled shyly before leaving Crowley on the couch who suddenly felt cold and very much alone. The plump man came back with a  [ smaller cake ](https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcR-OdgcFVASF3pIpo7fWKs-A7ouvC7hEYohtTMUQKNgi9UReticFw&s) \- smaller than the one Crowley made - covered in Chocolate icing. Serving Crowley a slice, the man couldn’t help but smile. His angel made him something. He tried to make something for him. How is Crowley not yet bursting with love for this adorable man?

“So…?”

“This is wonderful, angel,” Crowley smiled, kissing Aziraphale softly as he tried to get the man half back on his lap again.

“I hope not as wonderful as I am or I’d be forced to compete against it,” Aziraphale giggled, trailing kisses on Crowley’s shoulder, well anywhere he can reach, actually. Crowley playfully glared at him, putting the plate down, and pulling Aziraphale closer.

“Nothing can ever compete with you, angel,”

“Really?” Crowley nodded, giving an affirming kiss to the man.

“Even if I’m fat and not as beautiful as you are?”

“You are just as beautiful - even more - and I’d ask for nothing else than your love,” Crowley whispered.

“I love you, Anthony Crowley,”

“And I love you, Aziraphale Eastgate,”

“Will you marry me?”

There was a pause. The world stopped for a few seconds and the two just stared at each other in surprise before laughing, each taking out the ring they have for the other. And just remaining on that couch, holding each other.

“You - years I have been with you and I still can’t predict you,” Crowley smiled, eyes closed, just savoring the moment.

“Good. I can keep you on your toes, then,” Aziraphale answered, both hands on Crowley’s cheeks, forcing the other to open his eyes and look at his, well, now, his fiance.

“My God, I love you so much, angel. I don’t - I can’t - ngk”

“I know, my love. Don’t strain yourself,” Aziraphale smiled cheekily, kissing the red-headed man passionately, trying to say in that kiss the love he has for him that even after all these years, never diminished.


End file.
